It’s 6 a.m. I groggily rise from a restless night’s sleep to awaken my daughter for school, a routine I’ve followed since she began kindergarten. Bright light spills from the crack beneath her door, indicating she’s likely pulled an all-nighter, desperately writing a French paper she should have begun days ago. As a high school student, I worry about her preparedness for college. I managed to navigate those years, so I suppose she will too.
I slowly open her door, and the light floods the room. I call out her name, hesitating as I turn to head downstairs. Perhaps she’s in the shower? I search her room, frantic for any sign of life. Could she have gone off somewhere unexpectedly? The year has been challenging for both of us, and my mind races with these thoughts.
Holding my breath, I return to her room. A childhood blanket lies crumpled on her bed, and fear grips me as I approach. I imagine the headlines: “Local Teenager Dies Writing French Paper.” The weight of being a single mother weighs heavily, and thoughts like these creep in at dawn. Maybe I need a run through the cornfield to clear my mind. The idea brings a chuckle, but the neighbors might not appreciate my antics.
I lift the blanket and see her curled up in her bed, still in yesterday’s clothes. My heart races as I touch her head. I feel foolish for my earlier thoughts, grateful she can’t read my mind.
My gaze settles on her gentle rise and fall of breathing, reminiscent of the hours I spent by her crib, ensuring she was okay. That yearning to hold onto her forever comes flooding back.
As I glance at the clock, a sense of reluctance washes over me. I know what’s next: her whining and adolescent tantrum, pleading to stay home. She’s aware of my weakness as my only child, soon to head off to college. Most likely, she’ll convince me to let her skip school today, sleeping until the afternoon, while I occasionally peek into her room to watch her.
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In summary, the morning routine of waking my daughter brings a mix of nostalgia and anxiety as she navigates her final years of high school. As a single mother, I reflect on the challenges we face together, grappling with the impending changes that college will bring.